There is something magical about riding a bicycle down an empty street on a warm summer evening.
Porch lights are on,
and you can hear TVs and people talking or getting ready for bed,
but the cars are still and the road is yours.

My dad used to go for long walks on evenings like this.
I don’t know if I’ll ever take that up,
but when three o’clock arrives and it’s time for me to head home,
I think I’ll go the long way ‘round.